


controlling

by Lewdsuke



Series: Iwaizumi/Oikawa [11]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Protective Iwaizumi Hajime, Psychological Trauma, Stalking, Threats, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 04:11:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19985887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lewdsuke/pseuds/Lewdsuke
Summary: Oikawa began to wonder if he should’ve stayed at school when his thoughts start to drift back to that day. That day that a strange man broke the lock on the front door. That day when this man yanked him by his hair, pressing his gun into the side of Oikawa’s face while he whispered in the teenager’s ear. That day that changed everything.orOIkawa was raped, and now his life is plagued by the control those memories have over him. Luckily he has Iwaizumi, who would stop at nothing to help him.





	controlling

**Author's Note:**

> CAUTION! The rape scenes are not extremely graphic and written in flashbacks, but please read at your discretion!
> 
> I'm kinda sorry for writing this, it made me sad, but I hope you can enjoy it. Thank you for reading :)

Oikawa remembers that day vividly. Too vividly. It makes him sick to the point that he would feel the urge to vomit when touched in a specific place. He always sympathized for a girl who had confessed to him one time, gingerly laying her hand on his waist and smiling up at him, but Oikawa could only jerk away from her and cover his mouth to prevent himself from throwing up. He felt so bad about the incident that he actually agreed to go on a date with her.

Today was one of those days where the vivid memories came with a touch. It wasn’t intentional, but Oikawa can feel the bile rising in his throat. When he tries to swallow it back down, it just burns and tears reflexively sting at his eyes.

The captain had been joking around with Hanamaki when someone suddenly wras their arms loosely around him. He isn't too bothered at first until hands are pressed firmly against his stomach, then suddenly he loses his breath.

Oikawa can vaguely hear Matsukawa’s voice from behind him, laughing about something as he pats the setter’s stomach and then laughing again. Hanamaki is laughing too, but Oikawa doesn’t know what the joke was because he is too focused on trying to catch his breath.

The bitter taste climbs higher and higher up his throat, then falls back down and it feels like his lungs are filling up with acid.

Even when Matsukawa lets go of him and steps away, even when he and Hanamaki stop laughing, even when he hears their concerned voices talking to him, he can’t find his breath. The world becomes blurry and he grits his teeth. When he tries to shake his head, it only makes things worse as it starts throbbing.

“Oikawa? Oikawa!” He hears that familiar, soothing voice calling to him, but the memories of those gloved hands and foul breath are overwhelming.

Then there are hands on his shoulders, shaking him and shaking him, “Tooru. Listen to my voice. Take a deep breath, okay?”

But he couldn’t take a deep breath when he couldn’t breathe to begin with.

“Tooru, you’re fine, just listen to me. You’re at school, it’s just Makki and Mattsun and,” a calloused, warm hand is suddenly holding Oikawa’s tightly, carefully, “Iwa-chan. So just breathe with me.”

Oikawa hears a loud, slow inhale and exhale of breath, and he struggles to follow along with it. Once he finally is able to match the breathing he’s hearing, he blinks hard until he can focus on the person in front of him, “Iwa-chan.... _Hajime_.”

Iwaizumi smiles at him and nods, “Yeah, see, you’re good. Just calm down.”

Oikawa takes a final deep breath and gulps, shutting his eyes tightly and then reopening them. When he does, he sees that Hanamaki and Matsukawa are looking at him fearfully.

Holding a hand to his forehead, Oikawa backs away from them, “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well, I’m going to go home early,” he croaks, turning to leave.

“Wha– Oikawa! You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Iwaizumi protests, knowing how these bouts often end.

Oikawa turns his head to offer a smile at his friend, “I’ll be fine, Iwa-chan. Thank you.”

But he won’t be fine, and they both know that.

Oikawa tends to isolate himself during times like this. Contradictory to his normally excitable and social personality, he can’t bear to reveal any kind of emotional weakness. Perhaps be does this because of his need to be a strong captain and teammate, or maybe it’s just his pride. Either way, it’s also the reason that nobody besides his immediate family and Iwaizumi know what happened that day.

When he finally gets home, he regrets skipping practice, but he knows if he stayed at school he would have regretted it even more. He loves Hanamaki and Matsukawa, but he isn’t in the mindset to deal with their worries or questions as to why he’d suddenly had a breakdown. As he unlocks the door to his house, he grimaces as he thinks about how guilty his two friends probably feel. Still, he hopes Iwaizumi offers the usual vague explanation of “It’s not your fault, Oikawa will be fine.”

After walking in, taking his shoes off, and locking the door behind him, Oikawa scurries up his stairs and into his bedroom, shutting the door and burying himself in his bedsheets.

While under the sheets, he pulls off his jacket and tie, tossing them to the floor and then curling up into a ball, taking a deep breath as Iwaizumi would remind him time and time again.

He again began to wonder if he should’ve stayed at school when his thoughts start to drift back to _that day._ _That day_ that a strange man broke the lock on the front door. _That day_ that this man held Oikawa at gunpoint as he rifled through every drawer and cabinet in search of whatever valuables he could find. _That day_ when this man yanked him by his hair, pressing his gun into the side of Oikawa’s face as he whispered in the teenager’s ear.

_“_ **_Goddamn_ ** _, you’re even prettier in person. So soft and slender and sexy. Holy fuck, I can’t believe I_ **_finally_ ** _get to touch you, after waiting and watching all this time. It was so fucking worth it. I’m gonna make you_ **_scream_ ** _.”_

Oikawa brings a hand up to cover his mouth as he starts feeling nauseous. He’s sweating profusely but his nerves won’t let him move away from the warmth and security of the covers. He wants to stop thinking but once he gets on a roll, it’s nearly impossible.

And so he remembers the foul breath of that man as he ran his tongue along the shell of Oikawa’s ear, one gloved hand pulling harshly on his hair while the other slid up and down his side. He remembered the sudden rush of adrenaline he had as he smacked the gun away from his face, it skidding across the floor of his bedroom and the man frantically chasing after it. Then Oikawa sprung from his bed and out of his room, pulling out his phone and trying to call the cops or _anybody,_ but he was trembling so badly that he couldn’t do it in time. Those heavy footsteps were getting louder and louder until the man’s shoulder collided with his back. The teen stumbled, his phone clattering to the floor and he tried to pick it up, only for it be kicked away beneath the refrigerator, causing his blood to run cold.

Oikawa lets out an involuntary whimper as he pulls the covers closer against him, jaw clenched so tightly that it ached.

The man cackled as he grabbed Oikawa by the back of his neck and shoved him face first into the kitchen counter, so hard that his nose bled. The man giggled as he dragged his hand back to Oikawa’s hair and pushed his face against the cold marble. He laughed as he yanked down the teen’s shorts in one motion and groped at his thighs. He groaned as Oikawa flinched uncontrollably with every touch before pulling down his briefs, too. He hummed in pleasure when Oikawa gasped, then he bent over the teen, licking and biting at his neck as he mumbled:

_“_ **_Fuck_ ** _you’re so pretty. So pale and pretty and so_ **_perfect_ ** _that I just want to_ **_wreck_ ** _you. This is so much better than jerking off to pictures. You always look so fucking hot when you’re on the court you know? I get so hard every time, I’ve been looking forward to this for so_ **_long_ ** _.”_

This man moaned as he plowed into Oikawa without warning, without preparation, without a care. He moaned as Oikawa screamed until his throat was raw and his lungs were empty. He moaned as Oikawa reached back to claw at his arms and struggle but to no avail, his hold on the teen too strong, too painful. He came inside of him, snickering as Oikawa toppled to the ground as soon as the hand holding him by the hair disappeared. A gun tapped against his cheek and the man sighed, glancing at his watch and retreating from Oikawa’s home, but not before reminding him that he _would be back._

Oikawa and his family moved out of that house only a few days afterward. They spoke to the police and he gave them the best description he could from his scattered and harrowing memories of that time. Oikawa was humiliated and restless, even in their new house he just kept thinking about that man coming back again.

But he never came back. The police never found him, either. The only comfort Oikawa has is Iwaizumi. When Oikawa is too embarrassed or ashamed of himself to admit his fear of sleeping alone, he calls Iwaizumi. No matter the time of night, his friend would walk to his house and climb into his bedroom through the window. He’d sit at the edge of the bed and rub his back or pet his hair until Oikawa fell asleep. He’d let Oikawa squeeze his hand, even when he thought it might break, because Oikawa said it helped him focus. Iwaizumi may have dozed off, he may have complained sometimes, he might’ve been dead tired but he would never _ever_ leave Oikawa by himself in his time of need.

And that’s when Oikawa’s phone rings, startling him at first, but then comforting him as he hears the familiar Godzilla theme that he’d set for Iwaizumi’s ringtone. Even so, he lets it ring. He feels paralyzed, like if he tries to move someone will come out and strike him.

Only a few minutes later, Oikawa feels the vibration of his phone, but he figures it’s just Iwaizumi again. School should probably be ending now. He doesn’t want to reach into his pocket to check his phone, though.

For a while, Oikawa does his best to focus on his breathing and clear his mind until he regains the energy to move. When he hears shuffling from outside, however, he freezes. Seconds after, there‘s a knock on the door and Oikawa lets out a long sigh of relief. Iwaizumi comes over so often that he’d recognize that sound anywhere. Funny, how even Oikawa memorized the way his best friend knocks on the door.

“Oikawa! It’s Iwaizumi, I’m coming upstairs, okay?” Oikawa hears his friend call to him as the door opens. Iwaizumi knows where the spare key is hidden by now. He also knows to lock the door back every time he comes in ー to reassure Oikawa.

His heavy steps come slowly up the stairs, “Coming in,” he announces, then opens Oikawa’s bedroom door, where the brunette is still huddled up beneath the covers of his bed.

It then occurs to Oikawa that Iwaizumi must have skipped practice to check on him and he feels guilty for making him do that, but he’s glad to know that he’s being prioritized over volleyball.

Oikawa can clearly hear Iwaizumi walking through his room, setting his bag on the floor, then sitting down beside the bed. Iwaizumi actually has a system of doing things around Oikawa at this point. He makes sure to talk to Oikawa before doing anything and he moves loudly, as to not startle him. At first, Oikawa hated it. He felt weak, having Iwaizumi be so careful with him. But after finding out how nervous and jumpy he would get when startled, Oikawa quickly learned to appreciate the little things Iwaizumi would do to make him comfortable.

“I picked up all of the work you missed in your class,” Iwaizumi says as he flips through his bag to find the papers to leave on Oikawa’s desk, “Make sure you get it done.”

Oikawa nods his head beneath the covers, so Iwaizumi could at least see the movement and know that he was being heard, “Do you want to talk about it today?”

Does he want to talk about it? Oikawa isn’t very sure. These types of things happen often, and when Iwaizumi comes over, Oikawa will typically either stay silent or tell his friend about the incident. As much as he hates remembering it, he already knows how hard remembering is to control, so sometimes talking about it helps.

Hesitantly, Oikawa clears his throat, “Thank you for coming.” His voice is unexpectedly hoarse, and he hopes Iwaizumi doesn’t think it’s because he was crying. Because he didn’t cry this time. That’s progress, right?

“Of course. You know how much it worries me,” Iwaizumi replies, and Oikawa smiles. Iwaizumi is always more sincere at times like this. His advice and compliments aren’t laced with insults as they usually are.

Oikawa then decides that he wants to talk, “Today, when Mattsun touched my stomach... it reminded me of what _he_ did. He held my stomach and asked me if I could feel how... how deep it was. So when Mattsun touched me, that’s all I could feel.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything. He often doesn’t because he isn’t even really sure how to comfort his friend when he tells him about it.

That’s why Oikawa tentatively reaches one arm out from beneath the covers. Iwaizumi doesn’t hesitate to grab Oikawa’s hand and holds it firmly. It’s hot and sweaty, but Iwaizumi doesn’t mind.

“I don’t want him to come for me again,” Oikawa shudders, and Iwaizumi’s grip tightens.

“You know I won’t let that happen.”

Hearing those words makes Oikawa wonder what he would do if he didn’t have Iwaizumi. It isn’t something he likes to dwell on, “Come here.”

“A-Are you sure?” Oikawa’s lips curve into a smile when he hears the stutter in Iwaizumi’s words. It’s cute.

“Mhm,” Oikawa grunts, lifting his arm to bring the covers up just enough for Iwaizumi to slide under.

Iwaizumi accepts the invitation, pulling off his jacket and tie and crawling onto the bed. His hand is still firmly placed in Oikawa’s, because he doesn’t want to touch him any more than that.

The truth is, Iwaizumi wants to. He _really_ wants to. He wants to hug Oikawa, and kiss him, and _love_ him. Oikawa knows this, too. He knows since Iwaizumi confessed to him about a month ago. Oikawa told him he wasn’t ready for that, and Iwaizumi was content to respect his boundaries.

“Thank you,” Oikawa whispers, squeezing Iwaizumi’s hand.

But honestly, he wonders how long he’ll have to be like this. He wonders how long he’ll be afraid of touch, and of physical affection and intimacy.

How long is this fear going to stay sewn into every fiber of his body? Why did it have to be him? Why should what that man did control him?

———

When Oikawa wakes up, he sees Iwaizumi sitting on the ground again, leaning on the bed, his lips parted as he snores quietly.

The captain reaches out and pokes his friend’s cheek until he stirs.

“Why are you on the ground again?” Oikawa questions.

Rubbing his eyes, Iwaizumi turns so his shoulder is leaning on the bed and he looks up at Oikawa, “Well, you kind of freaked out last time I stayed there.”

“That was like three weeks ago...,” Oikawa mutters.

“I have to be careful,” Iwaizumi responds with a shrug.

Oikawa’s gaze falls to the ground, “I... want to show you something,” he says, easing off his bed and stretching; he’s been laying there for a long time, “It’s not just... _remembering_ what he did.”

Iwaizumi tilts his head, baffled as he watches Oikawa walk from his bed and to his desk, reaching into one of the drawers. He pulls out a stack of envelopes, twenty or so, held together with a rubber band.

Sitting on the ground beside Iwaizumi, Oikawa hands him the letters. When Iwaizumi sees him, his nose crinkles in confusion. There’s no addresses, no stamps; it just says ‘Oikawa Tooru.’

“What are these?” Iwaizumi inquires, tilting the letters around to observe them.

“You can... read one,” Oikawa whispers, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them.

Iwaizumi looks at Oikawa carefully, then drags the rubber band off and picks up the first letter, “This one isn’t open,” he comments.

Oikawa nods his head instead of responding, prompting Iwaizumi to open it.

Gulping, the ace tears open the envelope to unfold and read the letter inside.

All the while, Oikawa watches Iwaizumi’s expression as his friend’s curiosity turns into horror. When he turns back to the brunette, he looks disgusted.

“Oikawa, what the hell is this?”

Oikawa hugs his knees closer to his chest, “I think he’s still stalking me.”

“ _Still_?” Iwaizumi hisses, his eyes narrowing.

“When he was, um, talking to me the first time, he talked about seeing me at our games. And that I looked b-better in person,” Oikawa mutters, cringing at every word that comes out of his mouth.

Iwaizumi gapes at him, “Oikawa, are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Did you tell the authorities?”

Oikawa shakes his head.

“Why the hell not? This is pretty important,” Iwaizumi growls, his voice rising in volume.

Flinching slightly, Oikawa glares at Iwaizumi, “I was kind of distracted at the time. And if you haven’t noticed, it isn’t the easiest thing to talk about.”

Iwaizumi bites his tongue, “Right, I’m sorry.”

The silence is tense. Iwaizumi reads the letter over and over again, as if he’ll learn something else. But he doesn’t. All he sees are the same, threatening words.

“How do you live with this?” Iwaizumi says so quietly that Oikawa barely hears him.

You looked especially sexy today. I wanted to go to your practice, but some students saw me, so I didn’t. 

I can’t wait to see you again. I touch myself every night thinking of what we did together. 

After reading that for the seventh time, Iwaizumi tears the letter in half, his hands shaking in anger. Oikawa looks startled, but he cracks a smile.

“We have to report this or something,” Iwaizumi states, laying his head on the bed behind them.

Oikawa nods, “Yeah.”

———

It was two weeks later when it happened.

Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa are walking home from practice, joking and talking, not paying any mind to the person walking towards them.

As they walk past, the man bumps Oikawa in the shoulder, causing the brunette to drop his phone on the ground. The others keep walking.

Oikawa leans down to pick up his phone, the man beside him apologizing and leaning down too. When Oikawa grabs his phone, he finds his hand trapped beneath the man’s. Tilting his head up, he looks at the man in the eyes and the breath rushes out of him and the air turns cold.

“Hey there,” the man says, grinning wide and Oikawa can smell his foul breath, “You look tired. Should I buy you a drink?”

Oikawa picks up his phone and straightens up, but the man holds tightly to his wrist, that sickening grin staying plastered to his face as his eyes run up and down Oikawa’s body.

Oikawa wants to say something, anything, but he’s so dizzy and his hands are trembling.

“Who are you?” Iwaizumi’s gruff voice pulls Oikawa back to reality and he whips his head to the side to look at him.

Iwaizumi only needs to look into Oikawa’s eyes to see the fear and disgust swirling around and he _knows_.

As soon as Oikawa rips his hand out of the man’s grip, Iwaizumi is on him, tackling him to the ground.

It’s all chaos from there as Iwaizumi pins the man to the ground, laying into him with fists clenched so tightly they’re a deathly white. The man resists, pushing Iwaizumi’s arms away as best as he can, which works to some extent because whenever Iwaizumi misses, his fist collides with the ground. Even as his hands bleed, he pummels the man beneath him, and Oikawa is pretty sure he heard the sound of his nose breaking.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki are running to them in a panic. “Call the police,” Oikawa growls at them, and Hanamaki doesn’t hesitate as he pulls out his phone.

Meanwhile, the man had heard Oikawa, so he struggles even harder, managing to knee Iwaizumi in the stomach. It makes a nasty sound and the ace staggers to his side, clinging to his stomach in pain.

The man takes his chance to run, stumbling as he steps on Iwaizumi’s hand but he keeps going. Then Matsukawa is chasing after him, catching up easily. And he doesn’t even know why he’s doing it, but if the look of pure anger on Iwaizumi’s face told him anything, it was that this man was bad news.

Oikawa falls to his knees beside Iwaizumi, coaxing him to breathe, because the agony on his face is clearly from more than just a knee to the gut. Hanamaki shouts out that the police are on their way, then runs to help Matsukawa, who’s hanging onto the man by his wrists, trying to stop him from escaping.

“Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa hollers and grabs Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

Iwaizumi’s face is still pinched together in pain as he sits up, holding onto his stomach like he’s about to puke. His knuckles are bloody and Oikawa doesn’t know what to do, so he just rubs Iwaizumi’s shoulders as they await help.

“I’m okay,” Iwaizumi finally chokes out, his voice so hushed and heavy that it hurts Oikawa just listening to it, “Let me back at that bastard.”

Oikawa glances to Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who are holding the man down even as he thrashes and tries to kick at them wildly. His face is black and blue and his nose is soaked in blood. Half of Oikawa wants to say _yes_ , and let Iwaizumi beat him until he’s barely alive, but the rational side of him grits his teeth to say no, “We just have to wait for the police, okay?” He rubs Iwaizumi’s back gently, trying to soothe him, but the ace refuses to tear his eyes away from the man.

It isn’t long before the police arrive, piling out of the three cars, most of them running to help Matsukawa and Hanamaki, while two come to Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

Oikawa explains what happened to them and what Iwaizumi did and who the man is. They suggest taking Iwaizumi to the hospital quickly to take care of his hands, and as much as they both want to protest, they can’t disagree.

So they take Iwaizumi away in one car, while the others pull the man away in another. Oikawa is grateful he and Iwaizumi reported the letters already. He wants his justice.

Everything happens so fast that it’s hard to think straight. A policewoman approaches Oikawa and asks him and his friends to come to the station, but Hanamaki shakes his head and tells them to let Oikawa go home first. The policewoman looks unsatisfied, but agrees, because she knows they’ll all get their chance to talk soon.

But Oikawa just wants to see Iwaizumi, because he doesn’t know if he _can_ talk.

———

Two months later, the trial had gone by rather quickly. There was plenty of evidence in Oikawa’s favor, and the man, whose name was Abe Fumihiro, was sentenced to thirty five years in prison.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa felt terrible when they found out and apologized so much for being inconsiderate. But Oikawa assured them that it was fine ー they didn’t know, after all.

Although relieved, Oikawa feels immensely disturbed. Abe’s home had been searched, where they found lots of candid photos of Oikawa during practice, walking home, eating out, and at many other locations. It was revolting.

“Hey, Oikawa, stop looking like that,” Iwaizumi growls. They’re both seated on Iwaizumi’s bed, having finished studying but too tired from practice to do anything else.

  
  


“Sorry,” Oikawa mumbles in response, tossing his phone onto the bed.

Iwaizumi turns his body to lean against the headboard and look at his friend, “What’s on your mind?” He asks, putting down his own phone. His hands are still mostly wrapped in bandages, but at least he hadn’t broken anything.

The brunette shrugs, “Just everything. I keep thinking about the pictures, and Abe and—“

“Don’t say his name,” Iwaizumi cringes, “It’s gross.”

Oikawa nods in agreement ー the name always rolled off his tongue in a gruesome way. It makes him feel like there are ashes stuck at the top of his mouth, “I never told you what he said to me. When he walked past me after the trial.”

Iwaizumi narrows his eyes, leaning forward and waiting for Oikawa to continue.

“He told me to watch out, and that he’ll have me again when my stupid friend is gone.”

“Yeah right,” Iwaizumi sneers, though he looks furious, “like that would ever happen. I’ll rip his arms off before that ever happens.”

Oikawa chuckles and shakes his head, “I wouldn’t be surprised. You looked really scary, I thought you were going to kill him.”

“I might have.”

“Scary, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says with a pout, raising an eyebrow.

Iwaizumi doesn’t react, though, “Did you think I was going to let someone like that off the hook?” He responds, clenching his fists and frowning, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again.”

Oikawa smirks, “How noble. That sounds like a confession.”

“I’ve already confessed, Crappykawa,” Iwaizumi’s frown dissolves and he blushes.

The brunette misses this. It’s been a long and stressful three weeks filled with awkwardness and anger and he misses being able to lightheartedly hang out with his best friend.

“He kissed me and told me how beautiful I was. His lips were thin and his breath smelled disgusting,” Oikawa tells Iwaizumi, who looks confused, “Can you kiss me, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi coughs and his eyes widen, “What? But you... I mean you’re okay with that?”

Oikawa isn’t really sure if he’s okay with it, to be honest, but he’s sick of having to remember his lips being stolen from someone like that, “I’ll never get over this if kissing and affection only make me think of him.”

“Right right, so, you’re sure?”

“Kiss me before I change my mind and ask Makki,” Oikawa hisses, amused at the way Iwaizumi scrambles forward to sit in front of him.

The ace takes a deep breath, and Oikawa is already comforted by the fact that Iwaizumi’s breath is still minty from the gum he chewed an hour ago. When he finally kisses him, Oikawa can feel himself shaking and he wants to pull away, but then he feels Iwaizumi’s chapped lips smile against his. And it’s so soft, so gentle, so cautious and Oikawa’s heart aches because he _loves_ him. He _loves_ him so much but was too scared to be with him.

When their lips part, Iwaizumi’s eyes meet his, searching for something, and Oikawa’s breath hitches. He spent so much time being afraid of this because one person ruined it for him.

But he’s decided he won’t let anyone control his life anymore.

“I want to be with you, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi gulps and his eyebrows rise so far they nearly touch his hairline in surprise, “You, um, want to be with me? Are you sure you’re okay with that? I mean...,” he trails off, unsure of what he wants to say because he doesn’t want to tell Oikawa that it might be too soon. And he _does_ really want to be with his best friend. 

He so desperately wants to be with him.

“I’m sure, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa rolls his eyes but there’s still a small smile gracing his lips, “Besides, I know you’re going to take this agonizingly slowly, even if I tell you not to.”

Iwaizumi can’t really argue with that.

“Can I hug you?” Iwaizumi mumbles.

Oikawa laughs and nods, and Iwaizumi immediately reaches forward and embraces him. The brunette’s arms hover around Iwaizumi and his heartbeat speeds up.

“I love you, Tooru,” Iwaizumi says, his strong arms holding tighter and warm cheek pressing against Oikawa’s.

Oikawa’s heart swells and he finally hugs Iwaizumi back, tucking his face into the other boy’s hair, “Thank you,” he whispers in response, “I love you so much.”


End file.
